I Would Do Anything For You
Okay, so I've had so many Harry Potter fanfictions ideas that I've wanted to put into words but just haven't had the time, couldn't be bothered or it's gone in one ear and out the other in 10 minutes. But this one has buzzed around my head for days on end and I had to write it down.
There are themes of self-harm, eating disorders (anorexia and bulimia) and suicide in this story – so be warned, if this is triggering.
George, from a young age, had struggled with the social aspect of being a twin. People constantly coming up to their mother, Molly, and cooing at the twins, asking personal questions such as: What was being a twin like? Was there a special connection? Any telepathy? In all honesty, he was the shyer and more thoughtful twin; he had no idea how to answer these.
Luckily, he had Fred. Fred was bolder, more confident and overall the better twin in his opinion and he always came to his brother's rescue when George was cornered by some well-meaning but annoyingly-curious relative or stranger. In all honesty, George just let Fred handle everything because he saw Fred as better than himself.
As George had grown older, he had discovered he didn't mind being social as much anymore and didn't always need Fred to rescue him. In fact, he often initiated conversation and made himself appear much more confident than he actually was. Yet, George still viewed him twin as the better, stronger, more capable twin – never seeing himself in any kind of positive light at all.
Still, they played pranks together and enjoyed their life as two normal 15 years olds would. But as their 5th year at Hogwarts approached, George's view of himself compared to his brother's worsened and worsened. He just couldn't take being inferior and a lesser copy of Fred.
George stared at his brother, Fred, as he wolfed down his full platter of scrumptious food in the great hall. Then he glanced at Fred's slender body, as he often did now, and his rippling muscles that formed the perfect shape that was his brother. He looked at his own bulging whale of a body and put down his fork, smiling reassuringly in response to Katie Bell's curious stare.
"What's wrong, George?" she asked; only slightly worried. "Do you feel sick?" George grasped at the excuse "Yeah, think it was something I ate at breakfast. You know how that bacon can be a bit dodgy on Tuesdays" He laughed nervously.
Luckily, Katie bought it. "Well if you feel any worse after classes this afternoon go to Madame Pomfrey, okay?" George smiled less nervously now "Yeah, course I will Katie!" George laughed along with Fred, Lee, Katie and Angelina but he refused to pick up that fork again for the rest of lunch, and that was only the beginning.
As September melted into October which froze into November, George shed pounds like nobody's business. Once a healthy 162 lbs. for his 5ft 11 frame, an inch shorter than his twin, he now was about a mere 115 lbs. and his bones protruded from his body at all angles, not that you could see under his thick, black robes.
At meal times, he would stab a morsel of food and put it to his mouth only to begin talking and put it back down again. He would hide food under his plate, in his napkin, anywhere he could find really. Sometimes, and only sometimes, he would be so hungry that he would pile huge amounts of food onto his plate and gorge as much as he could, then he would excuse himself to purge it all back up in a vacant bathroom.
He cast a silencing charm on his bed every night and exercised for at least three hours, often more. He constantly went out running for miles upon miles each week, under the pretence of becoming fitter for the quidditch season. He felt tired all the time, but skipping classes wasn't that unusual anyway.
But it was getting harder to conceal, George constantly shivered from the cold, even under layers of warm Weasley jumpers and his strength had dwindled dramatically, not that he noticed this when all he saw was a huge fat lump compared to his brother. He dreaded Quidditch now, he froze when he was up on a broom and the beater bat felt like a tonne of lead in his hand.
One chilly winter evening on the Quidditch pitch, a bludger whipped towards George and seeing that he was making no move to protect himself the rest of the team called to him to do something, but he could barely lift the bat; there was no way he was going to be able to whack away the spinning ball coming ever closer.
Yet he still tried to shield himself from the oncoming hit with his free arm. Suddenly though, without the arm to steady himself on his broom, he began to feel faint and woozy and lost consciousness even before the bludger hit. Closer and closer to the ground he fell after the bludger knocked him from his broom until Fred, who had been racing to save him, grasped his wrist and lowered him slowly to the ground.
Fred sat his now slightly more conscious brother down and George groaned. "Guess the bludger must have hit my head pretty hard" he said as he rubbed the forming bump. Fred glared at him for lying and hissed "I saw George; you fainted before the bludger even hit you – What's wrong bro?" George didn't reply though, as the rest of the team had swooped down to see if he was alright.
"What happened up there? You alright?" Angelina called over the whipping wind. "The bludger hit his head and knocked him unconscious." Fred ground out "He's half frozen, Angie!" he said after a moment, feeling his brother's frozen fingers when helping George up from the ground. Angelina looked thoughtful.
"Well," she said "George you go back up to the castle; we want you in tip top shape for the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match," George nodded weakly and left without another word "and the rest of you can go after we catch the snitch!" Everyone looked pointedly at Harry, who nodded determinedly seeing as everyone was feeling the chill.
Fred stared after his twin, still feeling the miniscule wrist he held to stop George from falling in his hand – the bones digging sharply into his palm, as though they could snap any moment if he held too tightly. When George got back to his room Lee was out and he was all by himself. He glanced down at his wrist that now held a darkening black ring from when Fred had caught him.
He was covered in bruises now and each one felt as though the bone had been stabbed – even a simple prod caused a dark array of colours. How could he have been so weak and pathetic to faint out on the pitch and right before their last match of the season too? The Quidditch season had started early this year and they were to win the cup if the won this last match.
He could have hurt those chances of winning and failed not only the team but his family as well. He itched for release and reached under his bedside lamp for the sharp razor he'd taken from his shaver. He drew the blade slowly across his skin and bathed in the sensation it brought. A few slashes later, opening old scars and creating new ones, he cleaned the sharp edge and hid it back beside his bed.
He wrapped his fresh wounds and hid them under the long sleeves of his pyjamas, no one would ever find out. His school robes hid the scarred skin and the onyx colour prevented any blood that seeped through from ever being seen. George crawled in bed, the blood loss making him woozy and tired but the destructive thoughts keeping him from sleep just yet.
A little later, Fred came in with Lee and went to perform his nightly rituals of showering away the dirt from quidditch practice and brushing his teeth. When he came out of the bathroom, Lee was off in the world of dreams. He stumbled into bed, the exhaustion of Angelina's taxing practices finally taking over.
Just as sleep began to overtake him he heard soft noises coming from George's bed. Fearing that something was wrong he quickly got out of his own bed and made his way over to his twin's. Opening the curtains, he was met with a sight he had not seen for many years – George crying softly. Neither of the two had cried properly for some time.
His brother was crying in his sleep, tears trickled down his cheeks and short intakes of breath followed each wet trail. With a start, Fred realised how seriously something must be affecting George. He'd had suspicions, the sudden moodiness and lack of eating and sometimes binge eating.
He'd heard of things like depression and eating disorders, but he'd never imagined in his most terrible nightmares that something like this could happen to his twin, his other half. The signs were all there though and it felt like a stab to the heart to wonder why his brother felt like this.
George gave a whimper and Fred's mind returned to the dark dormitory. Without another thought, he climbed into George's bed. Pressing their bodies together, only now did Fred realise that George was shivering from the cold, even under a think duvet. Or was it from the crying? He couldn't tell.
He encircled one arm around George's waist and used the other to entwine their fingers. Fred tangled their legs together and pressed their foreheads together so their breath mingled with each other's. Much like how they slept as children, until Hogwarts had separated them from sharing a bed. George slowly began to shake less and his breathing became steadier.
Fred could feel thin ribs poking into his chest, skinny hips digging into his arm and bony fingers gripping his own meatier ones. He could see George's collar bones sticking out dangerously and as he ran a hand up and George's back to sooth him he traced the razor-edged spine. His wrist brushed against something rough and he glanced down to see what it was.
Under the pyjama sleeve a white fabric that held a slight chemical smell was stained with red. Fred sucked in a breath and gently unwrapped the bandage, careful not to wake the one it was attached to. He paled, his salty tears falling onto the battlefield of scars and mixing with the flowing blood.
He kissed the wrist of his twin, his lips coming away bloody. Then wrapping the bandage back up, he pulled George in closer. He didn't care what people thought in the morning when they found them in each other's embrace. "Georgie, I love you, I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you, I'll fix this no matter what"
"Freddie?" George whispered sleepily. "Go back to sleep baby, we'll talk tomorrow" Fred whispered back, his voice think with emotion. George awoke fully and looked up at Fred's tearstained face, panicking when he realised the Fred knew everything. He fought against his brother and cried "No please! You can't know, leave me alone!" "No Georgie," Fred said, holding him tighter "I can't ignore this anymore; I'm going to help you"
George just hugged him, defeated, and began to cry. Fred looked at his normally happy twin and wondered what had driven him to this. He was supposed to know his twin inside and out, so how could he have missed this? Fred also began to weep silently against his brother's skeletal body.
The Weasley Twins did everything together, they laughed together, pranked together, joked together… cried together. And Fred was going to make sure it stayed that way, he couldn't bear to lose his twin – the one he loved more than anything else in the world, he was going to make it right.
The next morning, it smelt of blood and tears, and the faint sobbing of the night before echoed off the cold, cobblestone walls. But despite the dark and heavyhearted atmosphere, something had changed inside both Fred and George Weasley. Fred knew everything was going to be okay, the twins would get through this together.
The End.
So that's it. Thankyou for reading this story, it might not measure up to some of the amazing ones out there but… It's the best I can do right now. I hope you have enjoyed it. The actual story, not including the Author Notes, is 2,000 words because there are 2 Weasley Twins – half each dedicated to them.